Travelers On the Wind
by Ariana Raven
Summary: A divine dragon. An amnesiac Earthmate. One small town, one evil empire, and a countless number of ways to lose just when the most important things are at stake...this is how legends begin. (Retelling of Rune Factory 4, following the game's storyline for the most part and featuring Frey as the protagonist. I own nothing but the words.)
1. Chapter 1: The Blow

**Chapter 1: The Blow**

_Spring Day 1_

Legends are a bit of a funny thing. When most people hear a given tale for the first time, it has already gained a certain surreal quality, having invariably transformed from a simple account of events into something that sounds more like a fairy tale than a real story about real people. It's hard to know whether or not to dismiss our legends as the product of rumor and hearsay, but often as not, the stories we hear and tell have an underlying truth at their heart which has merely been shrouded by exaggerated details. It is this truth which repeatedly calls men and women to action, reminding them of the deeds of their forebears. It is this truth that makes new legends from the old.

And so it was on one particular morning in the kingdom of Norad, when the land's latest legend was born from chance, courage, and a healthy portion of malice and general stupidity. This day, the first of spring, was not so much a calendar date as a feeling in the air, a golden tint to the sunlight, the smell of cherry blossoms and the way the gentle wind carried along several wispy clouds in their serene voyage across the sea of the bright blue sky.

The clouds were not the only frigates to be seen in this part of Norad's airspace. Not that there were many people below to take note of this fact; there was a distinct lack of civilization in the area, so the only local witnesses to a legend's beginning were a few roosting birds who were abruptly startled into flight by the passage of an airship overhead. The indignant leader of these birds, a large female with pinkish red plumage, expressed her displeasure with a loud squawk and launched herself skyward. Quickly overtaking the source of the disturbance with a few flaps of her powerful little wings, the bird paused to light on the head of the ship's only visible passenger, a young woman with pale green hair and an attitude of restless preoccupation.

The woman stiffened a little with surprise, but otherwise did not break from her reverie. She continued to grip the starboard rail with whitened fingers and stare at the ground passing beneath them with a constant searching gaze. Even when the bird opened her beak and gave a few more screeches which, in the common tongue, would have been distinct complaints about the rudeness of flying an airship directly over nesting territory during egg-laying season, the woman didn't respond or give any sign that she noticed the little creature on her head. Disgruntled, the bird finally gave up and flew off to round up the rest of her scattered flock.

"I don't have much time," the passenger muttered to herself, gazing after the small red bird with a slightly desperate expression, as if wishing she had wings herself that could fly faster than the airship's current pace.

"Excuse me!" she called urgently to the captain where he stood at the stern. "How close are we to Selphia?"

"Oh, we're almost there," the captain answered. "You setting out to do some sightseeing?"

"Y-yes," the woman replied with a slight, ironic laugh. "Something like that."

"You seem awful eager to get there, too," commented the captain unnecessarily. "Anyhow, it's a real nice town. Beautiful air and scenery, and it's got a great atmosphere. You can feel the protection of the dragon god when you're standin' on them roads! You'll enjoy your stay for sure."

"I hope so..." she murmured, and returned to staring over the side.

Unknown to her, two pairs of eyes watched her from the recesses of two large wooden barrels sitting on the deck nearby.

"Psst, can you hear me?" one of the barrels whispered to the other, below the woman's hearing.

"Yes sir," the other one responded.

Silence fell again, but only for a few moments.

"...by the way, what are we doing?" the second barrel asked.

"What kind of idiot are you?!" hissed the first. "You don't even know why we're here?"

"You _told_ me not to ask questions!" said the second defensively. "Said it was orders. Besides, you always get mad whenever I ask you anything..."

"_What?"_ If a barrel could have an aneurism, this one seemed close to achieving the feat. At the angry voice behind her, the green-haired woman half turned round, and both barrels were suddenly rendered mute. Seeing and hearing nothing more, she frowned and turned back to the rail.

"We're here to see that person," the first barrel informed the second after a few minutes had passed.

"That woman?" inquired the subordinate barrel.

"See any other passenger around here, stupid?" its superior growled.

"No. Well, there's us, but—"

"We're stowaways, not passengers!" the first barrel finished angrily. "Now be quiet, you idiot. We're about to make our move. You ready?"

"Y-yessir!"

"RAAAAAH!" both barrels cried aloud with one voice, and their lids flew off, revealing two soldiers in full uniform, both brandishing longswords that they didn't seem to know how to use.

"Wha–" the woman gasped, spinning around fully. The captain and his lone crew member turned to look as well.

"Heh-heh-heh," the leading soldier chuckled, loudly and theatrically. "We're taking over this ship now! If you don't wanna get hurt, then do as we say!"

"Yeah! Do as we say!" his subordinate echoed.

"Now give us the thing," the leader continued, "And we'll let you go."

The woman's eyes glinted with understanding and a hint of scorn, but the rest of her features were arranged innocently. "I don't know what you—"

"That thing you're about to give to the Native Dragon!" the leader interrupted impatiently.

"How do you even know about that?" she exclaimed, abandoning pretense. "For Aquaticus' sake, isn't any secret information actually secret anymore?"

"Unfortunately for you," the soldier sneered, "It isn't. You'd be surprised at what a little research can turn up these days."

"But did you research everything?" the woman countered swiftly. "This gift is more important than you know, or you wouldn't be trying to stop it getting to Selphia safely. If you think I'll just hand it over without a struggle, you're wrong."

As she spoke, the woman's hand drifted towards her side, where the slight glint of sun on metal hinted at a blade concealed in the short skirt of her tunic.

"Big words, little lady," the leading soldier leered. "Can you follow through on them?"

The woman smiled slightly in reply and drew her weapon, a simple one-handed broadsword that rested comfortably in her practiced grip. Her eyes darted downwards as she leaned into her stance, instinctively noting the weak spots in that of her opponent. Feet too far apart, toes turned inwards, knees locked. This would be too easy.

Two minutes later, both soldiers lay flat on their backs, groaning from the impact of hitting the ship's wooden deck. The woman returned her sword to its former location with a satisfied nod. She hadn't even had to use the edge, merely ducking under the men's clumsy attacks and shoving the hilt into their stomachs, knocking the wind out of them. From there, it was a simple matter to undermine each of their stances with a sweeping kick, pulling their feet out from under them. All those hours of emergency combat training hadn't been wasted.

Still, she was troubled by the fact that they'd actually known about what she was carrying with her, the true object of her journey. Glancing towards the largest leather pouch on her belt, she felt a sudden urge to check that its contents were still there, still safe; on an impulse, she turned away for a moment to take the pouch off her waist and risk a glance into the interior. Yes, they were still there. She could relax now, think about what she was going to do with the stowaways, whether to tie them up or—

A sharp pain abruptly burst through her skull, flaring out from a single point at the back of her head. As she collapsed forward against the side of the ship, the walls of her vision closing, the woman was dimly aware of her hand releasing its grip, the pouch's contents spilling out of the open flap as both tumbled over the edge and towards the ground below...

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Hi, guys! So this is my first Rune Factory fic, born from countless replays of all four numbered games, a few giant cups of coffee, and a spur-of-the-moment decision. I plan for this to be a retelling of the entire Rune Factory 4 storyline (though this particular fic will probably cover just the first story arc, with sequels for the second and third arcs and possibly a few accompanying oneshots), focusing on Frey as the main character; I haven't yet decided whether Lest will make an appearance or not. _

_Naturally, I will be taking a few minor liberties with dialogue and story, and since a lot of important choices in the game are left up to the player's discretion, there are naturally some variable outcomes in the canon universe anyway. In case you're wondering, I have no idea who I'm going to have Frey marry yet. That choice is left open for now; it could literally go in any possible direction._

_Anyhow, I know our archive isn't large, but I just thought I'd post this story here for fellow Rune Factory fans to read. I hope to have you all along for the ride to come!_

* * *

_Credits: Story by Ariana Raven, based on the Rune Factory game series by Natsume. Only the words are mine; the characters are not mine, the idea is not mine, and I do not own Rune Factory. Title taken from the English translation of the game's opening song, Kaze no Traveler. Cover image is not mine either; I'm only responsible for photoshopping it._


	2. Chapter 2: The Fall

**Chapter Two: The Fall**

Darkness enveloped her. Darkness and pain. They permeated every level of her sleeping consciousness, seeped into all the cracks and oozed back again. And like ocean waves caressing the beach, when they receded, they took something with them: some particles of the sand of her being were carried away on the tides and lost forever in the dark.

The first sound was a shout, harsh on her eardrums, pulling her roughly into consciousness. She resisted the change, still raw inside and out from...what? What had happened to her?

"Wake up already!" the voice yelled again.

She cracked an eye open, but the setting sun was so bright on the horizon above that she had to shut it again, suppressing a moan at the resulting throb in her sore head. It bothered her that she couldn't remember why it was sore.

"Urgh," she mumbled, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Ow."

"Finally," the voice said, sounding both relieved and irritated. "Now you're awake, it's time you tell us where that thing is hidden. Or else!"

She frowned, still flinching away from the noise and the light. _Thing? Hidden? What?_

Bracing herself, she opened both eyes at once and struggled into a sitting position, squinting in a general upwards direction. Gradually, her immediate surroundings came into focus. Two men in armor stood over her; their aggressive posture and hard expressions struck her as especially menacing, not to mention the weapons they were brandishing in her face. This confused her. They were angry with her. Why? She'd never seen them before in her life. Come to think of it, she couldn't remember having seen much of anything before now...she recognized the sun, and the sky, and the fact that they were on a ship, but when she tried to remember _how_ she knew these things, the memories just weren't there.

_Amnesia._ The word popped up out of nowhere, supplied helpfully by her brain. Great. If her current problem was really _amnesia_, then the most pressing question at the moment was...

"Who am I?" she said aloud, more to herself than to her aggressors. The two men exchanged a look.

"Huh?" one of them said, looking clueless; then again, "clueless" seemed to be both of their default expression.

"Who are you?" she tried again. She could see she'd have to make herself extra-clear with these clowns.

"Are you trying to play dumb with us?!" the one nearest her growled. She suppressed a snide response before the words could form fully in her brain, something about how playing dumb would be unnecessary for at least two people on this ship. She needed them to understand that she was telling the truth.

"No...um...I really don't remember," she said earnestly.

"I'll ask you one more time," the man shouted. "Where is that thing you were holding?"

"I swear I don't know what you're talking about!" she yelled back in abject frustration. Dealing with these guys was like ramming her already-tender head against a brick wall. Only the brick wall would probably have a higher IQ.

"Sir! Sir!" the second guy spoke up, raising his hand like a kid in school.

"WHAT?" screamed the first. His voice seemed to have only two volume settings: loud and louder.

"Sir! It might be amnesia, sir!" the second volunteered, to her relief. Finally, the penny had dropped.

"...what?" the first man said again, frowning hard at his companion. "Are you saying a little blow to the head like that caused amnesia?"

"Sir! I don't know sir! But...maybe?"

"Hmmmmmm," said the first, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmmm..."

After enduring three more "hmmmm's," each longer than the last, she reached the end of her patience.

"Excuse me," she interrupted, trying her best not to sound testy. "But maybe it _is_ amnesia?"

_"How can you lose your damned memory so easily?"_ the first guy bellowed in her face, his own face turning bright red.

"You shouldn't cry over spilt milk, sir," the second expounded with a wise air.

_"I know that,"_ the first responded, still shouting. Then his expression sobered and he leaned back.

"Wait a minute..." he mused, and she felt her stomach sink with a sense of foreboding. "How do we know you're not just playing us like fools? This could be a trick. A dirty, rotten ploy!"

"Oh, good point, sir!" the second man agreed.

"Wait a minute," she interjected uneasily, but was ignored.

"All right," the first said decisively. "Take this fool over there to the side and we'll see if a little spot of threatening brings out the truth."

"Understood, sir!" said his subordinate, then grabbed her by the top of the arm and began to drag her across the deck.

"Wait, what?" she protested. "Hey! Stop! What exactly do you intend to do to me?"

This gave him pause and he stopped to think as he forced her up against the rail. "Well, I'm going to...uh..."

"Kick her off the ship!" the first guy supplied.

"Oh, okay," said the second, and raised his leg.

"No, wait! _Threaten_, don't actually—"

It was too late. She barely had time to brace herself, cursing the altitude and the men's stupidity and her own inability to sound convincing even when she was telling the truth, before the man's boot connected with her stomach and she lost her balance, toppling off the edge. Then she was just falling, unable to breathe as the air rushed past her, feeling her heart beat an uneven, frantic pace against her ribcage. She screamed, and the sound was ripped away by the wind.

Another scream followed, but this one wasn't hers. She barely had time to be confused about this before her back connected with something soft and hard, feathery and scaly, her fingers scrabbling frantically for a hold on something solid. One of the feathers she'd landed on came away in her grip, and someone yelled again.

"Ow!"

"Sorry!" she yelped, scrambling away and sliding to the cold, smooth ground. "Sorry. Sorry."

"What the heck?!" the voice exclaimed. "Did someone just fall from the sky? A...p-person?"

She wanted to answer, but couldn't manage speech anymore, or even actual thought besides the impossible knowledge that she'd fallen hundreds of feet and somehow, miraculously, survived. Also, her spine ached like the dickens.

"Hey, there..." the voice said, calmer this time. "Are you alive?"

She grunted in response.

"H-hello? You aren't dead, are you?"

"Owww," she finally managed.

"You _are_ alive!"

"Barely," she groaned, sitting up and rubbing her back.

"Are you injured?"

She took a little longer to answer this time, too busy taking stock of her surroundings, which were even stranger than before. She appeared to be in some kind of throne room, if the marble floor, high stained glass windows, and dignified topiary lining the walls were any indicator. Glancing upward, she took note of the open ceiling through which she'd apparently fallen, then downwards at the person she'd landed on.

Oh. Not a person, so much. Not in the usual sense. This was more of a...

Dragon. A large, scaly, feathery—she glanced sheepishly downward at the multicolored bit of plumage she'd pulled out by accident, still clutched in her left hand—dragon. A dragon whose question she had maybe better answer, before the dragon started thinking she was intentionally being rude.

"Well," she said nervously, running her hands quickly over her whole body, checking for injuries. "My back hurts. But that's all."

The dragon frowned, furry brow drawing low over her deep grey eyes. "Only back pain after falling from the heavens...just what kind of body do you have?!"

_Wait,_ she realized, her brain catching up belatedly with her situation. _The dragon is talking. _

"What?" the dragon asked self-consciously. "Is there something on my face?"

"A talking...dragon?" she stammered, then winced at the way she sounded. If she'd appeared rude before, now she was positively uncouth.

"Huh?" the dragon asked, then seemed to realize something. "Oh. Well. I suppose introductions are in order. Ahem!"

The dragon straightened herself to her full, impressive height, shaking her wings out and raising her long lizard's neck.

"I am Ventuswill, the Divine Wind!" the dragon announced grandly. "One of the legendary Native Dragons governing this world. And I don't care if you've fallen from above, you have no right to enter this chamber unpermitted! What is your name?"

"Me...?" the girl stammered. "I'm...well..."

"LADY VENTUSWILL!" a deep voice bellowed from outside the chamber. "What in the world was that noise I just heard?"

Through one of the entrances burst a large, intimidating man in butler's garb. He stopped a few feet from the dragon and turned in the direction of the girl.

"Egads! Who is this knave?" he shouted.

"Wait, Volkanon," said the dragon calmly.

"B-but," Volkanon stammered, his thick, neatly groomed blond brows drawing together in confusion.

"I said wait. We are talking together."

"Yes ma'am," the butler conceded, subsiding. He removed himself to a respectful distance, but continued to scowl slightly.

"So," Ventuswill continued. "Who are you?"

"Well..." the girl answered, with a nervous glance towards the large, angry butler in the corner. "My name is Frey...I think?"

"You musn't give me a vague, noncommital answer," insisted Ventuswill. "Say it clearly."

"Well, um, that's the best I can do, I'm afraid," the girl shrugged. "I can't remember anything else besides my own name..."

"Oh my!" exclaimed the butler.

"You speak the truth?" demanded the dragon.

"Yes ma'am," Frey nodded respectfully. The dragon tilted her head to the side, contemplating the words. Frey had difficulty meeting her piercing deep grey eyes for such a long time, but refused to look away. Even though the men from before wouldn't believe her, these people had to. They were different, somehow. Honorable.

"I see honesty in your eyes," said the dragon finally. "But amnesia...!"

"I am so sorry for your loss!" These words came from the butler, Volkanon, who suddenly seemed too devastated for words. Rushing across the room, he grabbed Frey and enveloped her in a bear hug, almost crushing the breath from her body. A loud, thick sob burst from his throat.

"You must be so very confused, losing your memory like this!" he bellowed sympathetically. "But rest assured! I-I'll always be on your side!"

"Can't—breathe—" Frey choked.

"Oh!" gasped Volkanon, releasing her so abruptly that she fell once again to the hard marble floor. As she picked herself up, wincing, he continued speaking. "Wait a minute! Perhaps you're the Princess we've been waiting for!"

While Frey wondered how the heck he'd reached _that_ conclusion, Ventuswill seemed to consider the idea.

"Hmm," she said. "You do have an air of nobility about you. You must have lost your memory from the shock of the fall. Do you have any idea how or why you came to drop in from above?"

"Well, you see," Frey replied, "I don't actually think it was the fall. Because I woke up on an airship—that was what I fell from—and there were these men in armor who kept asking me questions. They said I had something they needed. I told them I didn't remember anything before waking up, but they didn't believe me. They were threatening me, but one of them got confused and he pushed me off the ship by mistake. I fell...and the rest you already know."

"Rebels," Ventuswill nodded. "I suspected as much."

"They must be villains chasing after the Princess!" the emotional butler agreed.

"You're right. This can't be a coincidence," said the dragon. "Volkanon."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Prepare a room for the Princess."

"Right away!" Volkanon responded smartly, and ran away to do his master's bidding.

"E-excuse me!" Frey exclaimed. This was all happening too fast for her taste, and none of it made any sense whatsoever. She hadn't followed the conversation very well, but it seemed she'd been mistaken for royalty. "Do you mean...a room for me?"

"Of course," said the dragon, as if it were a sure thing.

"But I didn't fall down with the intent to stay here..." she protested.

"No doubt," replied the dragon dryly. "Who would intentionally fall from the sky into a castle roof? It seems the fates have decided your course. There's no need to worry, I assure you. You are here because you were meant to be here."

"B-but..." Frey stammered, then stopped, considering. The dragon might be right. She seemed to have a lot of power here, and what she said made a weird kind of sense, even if Frey couldn't wrap her head around what it all meant just yet.

"You shall live in this town," Ventuswill continued authoritatively, "And perhaps in doing so, you may find clues leading to your identity. It seems the most logical course of action, wouldn't you agree?"

"I'm not sure I'd call that logical, but..." Frey fell silent, reminding herself that she really did need a place to stay. These strange yet kind people were offering that. Was that really such a bad thing? "Are...are you sure I can stay?"

"Most certainly."

"Thank you very much," Frey said softly, and she meant it.

"There's no need for that." Ventuswill brushed aside her thanks. "However...I hope in addition to your own personal details, you've also forgotten...the tone of voice I used eariler."

She trailed off, seeming uncomfortable. Frey frowned, not sure what the dragon was talking about.

"Earlier?" What do you mean?"

"My...way of speaking!" rumbled the dragon. "You know only this, right? You've heard nothing else?"

"Oh!" Frey realized. Now that she thought about it, before "introductions," Ventuswill's voice had been different, her tone more casual, the pitch higher and the words less formal and dignified. "You do sound a little different, come to think of it. A little more...arrogant, I guess? Sorry."

"Tsk!" the dragon huffed. "So you _do_ remember..."

"Did you just...click your tongue derisively?" Frey giggled. For some reason, this very human mannerism on the part of the enormous dragon with green scales, large curved horns, and feathery wings struck her as funny.

Ventuswill sighed loudly in defeat, hanging her head. "If you've heard the other side of me, I suppose there's nothing I can do about it. Oh, well..."

"Erm, Lady Ventuswill?" Frey asked, still smiling a little. She couldn't help it.

"Just call me Venti," the dragon said.

"Venti?"

"Sure, why not?" Venti shrugged. "At this point, I don't care if you address me with respect. That ship has sailed! Furthermore, stop speaking so politely. It makes me rather uncomfortable. Talk to me like we're old friends. All right?"

For the first time, it occurred to Frey that this great beast of a ruler was probably lonely. Weren't all rulers, for that matter? She probably needed a friend to talk to more than anything else, and if Frey was going to stay here on her hospitality, the least she could do was provide that companionship.

"Yes, m—" she caught herself. "I mean, okay."

"Good," said the dragon happily. "Now listen! This is important. Do not let anyone else know about this, all right?"

"About what?"

"The fact that I'm actually...kind of informal by nature."

"Oho, so you're keeping that se—" Frey began, amused, but the dragon cut her off with a loud growl.

"YOU TELL NO ONE. UNDERSTOOD?"

"Yes, ma—Venti."

"Hmph!" Venti replied grumpily, yet she seemed reasonably satisfied with the response.

"Lady Ventuswill," Volkanon announced from the right-hand doorway. "The room is now ready."

"Well done," the dragon nodded, once again using her ruler's tone. To Frey, she added, "Your body must ache. Rest early today, Princess."

"Now, Lord Arthur, let me show you to your room," the butler suggested, offering Frey his arm.

"Arthur?" she frowned.

"Yes," the butler affirmed. "I heard that the name of the Princess is Arthur. But...if that's the case, why would you call yourself by another name?"

"Maybe I'm not really the princess?" Frey suggested exasperatedly.

"I see," Volkanon nodded. "Even the one thing you thought you remembered. It must be tough."

"No, I didn't—"

"It's only natural that you'd be a bit bewildered. I think it's best you turn in early today."

"But—"

"If you're a member of the royal family, your identity shall soon be learned," Venti assured her. "In which case you would have to admit that you've forgotten your real name."

"But I haven't forgotten!" Frey insisted. "My name is Frey."

"Hmm...Frey...that's a fancy name," the dragon frowned. "You may use that name for now if you wish."

"But I'm telling you—"

"I'll leave the rest to you, Volkanon," Ventuswill interrupted.

"Of course," the butler bowed. "Now, Princess, let us go!"

"Yeah, I really don't think I'm a Princess," Frey replied, sighing with defeat. Like all the arguments in the world would make any difference. These people were good and convinced that she was the Princess they'd been waiting for. Well, they'd just have to be shocked and amazed when the real ruler showed up and it wasn't her! Anyway, wasn't Arthur a guy's name?

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Yay, update! I hope the sentences don't sound too choppy in this one, since I wrote it fairly quickly and only proofread/edited two or three times. I've been enjoying myself with this story! I just really like taking the skeleton of events and filling in all the little details, so I'__ve already started work on the next chapter and plan to have it up fairly soon._

_Frey might end up being a little sassier in this story than in the game. Oh, what am I talking about? Game-Frey is made of sass. Anyhow, hopefully I will be able to introduce a bunch of the townspeople in the next two chapters, including Doug, who I have to admit is one of my personal favorites. He's such an adorable angsty goofball._

_Thanks again for reading! I won't make you review, but it would make my day if you did. So if you have anything you'd like to say, any feedback, good or bad, please don't hesitate!_

* * *

_Credits: Story by Ariana Raven, based on the characters and storyline of the game by Natsume. I do not own Rune Factory. Title from the English translation of the opening song, Kaze no Traveler, which I do not own. I also do not own the cover art; I am only responsible for the photoshop effects added._


End file.
